


A House Built For Two

by Diablerie



Series: Forsaking All Others [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Peter Hale, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Medieval Fantasy, Courtship, Extremely Underage, Gen, M/M, No Sex, Panic Attacks, Tiny Mate Stiles, Werewolf Mates, bride abduction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-03
Updated: 2015-05-03
Packaged: 2018-03-28 19:13:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3866560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diablerie/pseuds/Diablerie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles wakes up in a eerily familiar house with Peter staring straight at him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A House Built For Two

**Author's Note:**

> Instead of doing other things or working on the next chapters of _anything else at all_ , I did this. Because Tiny Mate Stiles was too important to put off another day. Blame/thank [TriDom](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TriDom) for enabling and pre-reading.
> 
> Sharp-eyed readers might notice a few parallels between this and My Love Made Complete (the totally unofficial sequel).

 

The next time Stiles wakes is to a quiet humming and Peter’s unblinking gaze – wide, uncanny blue eyes mere inches from his own. He barely holds back the yelp, but the effort comes too late. His waking causes Peter’s entire body to shift into high alert; he stills preternaturally as he focuses on Stiles.

 

“Good morning, Stiles.”

 

Fearful of what the wolf-man might have in store for him, he curls his body into a smaller target. The rustle and drag of soft fabric on his skin makes him frown. At some point during the night, Peter must have dressed him in new clothing of a finer fit and quality than any of his best outfits. He doesn’t want to know how the man accurately guessed at his measurements. With fresh unease welling inside of him, Stiles tries his best to put any amount of distance between them. At this point, he’ll accept _inches_ as an improvement. _Anything_ should be better than lying here and breathing the breath of the same man who kidnapped him and left Scott lying injured in the forest.

 

Stiles’ anxious gaze takes in his surroundings. To be honest, he expected their accommodation to be much more den-like and ramshackle given the feral behavior that Peter’s displayed so far. He’s shocked that they appear to be in a very normal house. A very _familiar_ house, in fact. Stiles wouldn’t bet his life on it, but from what he can see, it looks like the mirror image of the home he grew up in. The home he’ll never see again.

 

“Do you like it, sweet boy? It’s just like your old house.”

 

Now that Peter brings it up, he pays attention to the details. He can tell that the design and furnishings are an exact replica of his parent’s room – even down to the fancy bed that was a marriage gift from his mother’s family. The only thing different is the quilt. It’s not the same as the one from his mother’s glory box. Instead, it’s covered with moons and stars and wolves all circling a house in the middle like a quilted representation of his future. Stiles wonders, a touch hysterically, if Peter sewed the clothes they’re wearing and pieced the quilt himself. He pictures the wolf-man sewing in the company of woodland creatures and wheezes out a laugh. Before he knows it, he’s shuddering and clawing at his throat in panic, unable to take in air.

 

“You’re safe, Stiles. I have you now.”

 

Peter cradles him tenderly, as though he’s precious and fragile, and right now he _is_ more fragile than he can ever remember feeling. The man holds him, pets his close-shorn hair. If Stiles closes his eyes, then he can almost imagine that the solid embrace and soothing murmur are his father’s, that he’s back home and _safe_.

 

“Shh, shh. Sweetling. _Stiles_.” Through the tears and the panicked haze, he’s aware of the effortless way Peter lifts him up and onto his lap, crouching around him like a mama wolf protecting her cub; yet Peter’s touches remain soft, almost tentative, as he tries his best to reassure Stiles that he’s well.

 

“Shh,” Peter repeats uselessly and rocks him like an infant. “God’s in his heaven. All’s right with the world. Isn’t that what your mother would say? I remember that was on the sampler overlooking your family’s table. I made another for you, Stiles. I’ve spent these twelve years building a home for you.”

 

“Why,” he chokes out past the tightness in his chest and throat. “Tell me why.”

 

Peter presses a chaste kiss to Stiles’ furrowed, little brow. “Because I have loved you since before I knew you. I would have waited for you till the end of days. Till you were old enough to understand, but they wouldn’t listen.” Peter’s arms clamp tightly around Stiles’ trembling body. His voice roughens and coarse hair sprouts up as he begins to revert to his bestial form. “The _Argents_ dripped poison into your father’s ear – Gerard most of all. They threw us from the town to make our own way in the wilderness. Friendless. Alone. All this to keep you from me. Me! Your mate. As though I would ever or could ever harm you. I came to your father and pregnant mother with my heart in hand, prepared to promise you the moon, and this is how they repaid me—with betrayal. A pox on all Argents! A pox on that _wretched_ , little town!”

 

“I don’t understand.” Stiles shivers and shrinks within the circle of Peter’s arms. “My dad’s a good man. He wouldn’t have done that to innocent people. He would have told me that the wolves were real.”

 

“Oh, you dear, precious thing. You’re still so innocent. It will be better soon. I know it’s hard to recognise betrayal from those you love, but you’ll recover from the blow in time. You’ll never have cause to wonder over my loyalty to you. I would never lie or hide the truth from you. I swear it.”

 

He shifts uneasily at the sheer fervency of Peter’s promise. It doesn’t seem right for Peter love him so dearly when he doesn’t even _know_ the man, and he still doesn’t know what to believe about his father. It’s obvious that according to _Peter_ this story is the real truth. “You didn’t need to kidnap me. I know you’ve been watching me. Why couldn’t you just _talk_ to me when I was in the woods outside of town? Why did you have to hurt Scott? He’s my closest friend.”

 

Peter settles Stiles into a more comfortable position off of his lap and between his spread legs, leaning up against the bolster to drape the boy across his chest. Despite himself, Stiles is comforted by the intimate embrace – the strong hands stroking his back and petting his hair. He allows the vibration of Peter’s melodic hum to soothe him and waits for an answer. He’s pleased, at least, that the man does him the courtesy of considering his words rather than offering an easy or flip response.

 

Finally, after Stiles almost succumbs to the weariness that follows such intense panic and the drugging warmth of man and bed, Peter speaks. “It wasn’t safe. It wasn’t a good place. Too many Argents about. I couldn’t have abandoned you to your fate after meeting you. Taking you last night wasn’t planned. Talia will be furious; she’ll try to make me give you back, but they’ll _know_. They’ll know who took you. They’ll come for us again.”

 

“ _Who_ will know? The Argents? What about Scott?” For once, Peter takes no notice of Stiles. He continues on as though he’s talking to himself or to voices only he can hear.

 

“You understand, don’t you? I only wanted to see you, to keep you from harm. My own love. You should never have been left to wander alone in the woods on a full moon.” Awareness returns to Peter’s eyes, and he leans into the sensitive crook of Stiles’ neck to whisper. “I’m sorry about your friend. He was hardly hurt. I left him safely by the fire and brought you with me—brought you home.” Almost shyly, Peter continues, “Did you know…I watched you sometimes. I took things you’d left behind, or from your house when I dared to enter the town walls. Would you like to see? I kept them here for you.”

 

This admission shocks him, renders him mute. Stiles isn’t sure whether he feels terror or some strange sympathy. Perhaps it’s a combination of both. It’s clear that whatever happened in the past, has broken something inside of him, or maybe Peter was always broken. All Stiles knows is that this is his new home, and he must learn to live with wolf and man or die trying.  

 

He clears his throat, searching his mind for the right words—words that will make Peter happy—when Peter’s absent humming jars loose a fragment of long-buried memory. He _knows_ that hum, _knows_ that voice. It’s the same one from those nights when he was sick or scared or, later, hungry from a busy father and no mother to prepare the evening meal. Stiles remembers lying awake in his little straw tick with his only comfort coming from the secret friend he’d been forced to imagine. But how on God’s green earth could it be Peter?

 

“Did you ever watch me sleep, Peter? I made up a friend once. A secret friend. He stayed with me during nightmares and sang me to sleep when I was scared. He came to me when my mother died, but then he stopped coming. I thought it was wishful thinking or an imaginary story... Was that you?”

 

The look on Peter’s face is like the first hint of spring after a long winter. The naked hope and wonder is almost too painful to bear, then he laughs and buries his face back into Stiles’ neck taking in great lungfuls of his scent.

 

“Yes! Yes, that was me. When the pull was too strong to deny I would come to you by moonlight and offer you what solace I could. You were so _young_ . I thought you would be too close to sleep for you to remember, but you surprise me again and again. Oh, how I do _love_ you. My sweet mate. We’ll be so happy together. No one, man or principality, can tear us apart again—my oath on it.”

 

“I know, Peter. I believe you.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please let me know if you noticed any mistakes or need me to add any tags.
> 
>  
> 
> **Warnings:**
> 
>  
> 
> Peter's behavior is disturbing and inappropriately intimate without being _sexual_. Yes, he's in love with Stiles, but that doesn't make it any better.


End file.
